


strategic fit

by smokeczars



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, And no one has a clue, Attempt at Humor, Co-workers, Corpo-speak as Sexual Euphemisms, Lots of Office Banter, M/M, Secret Relationship, Secretly Married Noren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-21 04:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30016044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeczars/pseuds/smokeczars
Summary: It’s common knowledge that Lee Jeno from Communications and Huang Renjun from Legal had it out for each other. Like flowers blooming in spring and the ice caps melting away to a slowly toasting earth, it’s just accepted fact.or: the one where jeno and renjun are co-workers. and also secretly married.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 41
Kudos: 289





	1. Chapter 1

_i. the one where jeno is next in line for the next c-level promotion, probably_

“Hey, Jen? Can I speak with you for a moment about, uh, the latest PR?” 

“Oh, Jaemin. Good morning.” Jeno looks up with a bright smile, signaling Jaemin to come in and close the door. “Sure. What about it? Was it, you know… too incendiary? Not fit to print? I thought it was pretty in line with the strat plan, though.” 

“No, um. About that. It's fine, it's aligned, the angle you went for was great as usual. But I was thinking maybe seed the release tomorrow instead of today?” Jaemin starts then pauses, looking at the cornucopia of anvil-sized folders on Jeno’s desk. He winces through his next words, not even bothering to hide it. “Think about it, Jen. We’ve already got the health forum write-up today all slated to go before 3pm. The editors are probably sick of—“

Jeno’s phone, a beat-up looking iPhone 7 that looks like it’s been through the wringer and back, starts to vibrate. Jaemin, sufficiently distracted from his plan to convince Jeno to delay a seeded release, throws a glance askance at it. 

Instead of a contact name, the screen simply reads 😡❌👿. 

Now, you’d normally reserve a scathing trio of damning emojis for credit card companies or that one annoying University classmate who’d somehow gotten into the business of offering VUL insurance policies and just won’t quit pestering you day and night about getting one for your kids and hell, for the whole damn family tree. 

But Jaemin knows Jeno, and has known how he is for quite some time. Jaemin has worked with Jeno on a collaborative capacity for about three years now as a fellow Manager in the same function. Jaemin even had the chance to interview Jeno after the company recruiter hailed Jeno’s CV as _the perfect fit for the team_. As the one making the decisive call before their Corporate Communications Head Doyoung’s final say prior to actual offer, Jaemin made sure to filter well. 

He even remembers making notes on the HR remarks form—

_Strengths of Candidate: go-getter, eager to learn, very personable. also - on face value alone, our stakeholders will be more likely to listen to him. i can finally have a partner for media rounds that isn’t poop hands jisungie from product dev and foot-in-mouth chenle from marketing (p.s. hello to our hr head taeyong-hyung, please don’t flag me for the comment on jeno's face, i swear this isn’t a creeper comment this is an actual observation!!!)_

_Weaknesses of Candidate: friendliness may indicate pushover tendencies, may not be able to hold own against more dominant personalities?_

_Misc. Skills of Candidate: post-it organization??_

When it came time for the interview with Doyoung, he’d agreed for the most part on Jeno’s finer points, basically securing his slot in the team. They only really disagreed on his weaknesses. 

“He’s less likely to give in than you think,” Doyoung observed.

“Hyung, come on,” Jaemin had whined. He’s already beginning to think Doyoung based major life and work decisions on the Co-star app. This debacle on Jeno’s ability to hold his own under pressure doesn’t help make a case in Doyoung’s favor. “Tauruses are not that stubborn.” 

“Which makes him… yep, pretty perfect. He’s exactly what we need in the team. You’ll see what I mean,” Doyoung said, sagely and also a tad cryptically. 

Eventually, he’s come to see what Doyoung means and more. Working in Communications, you had to have a bit of an inner edge, after all. 

The point is: Jeno is affable, well-meaning and generally agreeable. He’s the kind of guy who’ll greet you a cheery good morning at the pantry by the communal pot of burnt coffee. Someone whose office you’d pass by, only to backslide a bit because _what the fuck_ , since when did someone who probably modeled part-time for GQ or Men’s Health Korea _while_ volunteering at charitable non-profits and animal shelters work in corporate? 

So Jaemin knows Jeno only really reserves this kind of contact for one person. 

Jeno gives him an apologetic look which Jaemin waves off, the latter hurriedly mouthing, _Answer, dude! It might be important!_

 _Sorry, he’s been really antsy lately about the roll-out_ , Jeno mouths back.

“Okay, it’s so weird we’re, like, lipsyncing when you haven’t even answered yet. Just. Pick it up. See what the devil needs.” 

Sighing, Jeno picks it up and quickly taps on the speaker function. 

“Yes, Renjun? You’re on speaker, by the way. Jaemin’s here. Say hi.”

Jaemin clears his throat. “Hi, Jun.” 

“Jeno,” Renjun says, completely bypassing Jaemin's existence. 

“Jesus Christ,” Jaemin mutters, bracing himself for the verbal bloodbath. 

“What did I say yesterday about the plan you gave for the roll-out?”

Jeno sits back in his ergonomic chair. He seems oddly relaxed for someone Jaemin can sense is about to be chewed out to kingdom come. 

“Ah, can you remind me?”

“I told you. At the moment, it’s too risky. You haven’t even filed the legal approval documents for this! Do you expect me to escalate this half-baked thing all the way up to the region? Whose head do you think they’ll have?” Renjun sighs heavily over the line. “Not yours, I can bet you that.” 

In the background, Jaemin makes a noise like a gurgling cat. 

Jeno, for his part, holds his own admirably just as Doyoung had predicted. He hmms appropriately and responds with a curt _okay, noted_ at the right moment as Renjun’s soft, measured voice pummels through point after point via crackling phone static.

Only Renjun could sound like a fucking nightingale about to sing you to sleep while he’s semi-berating you over speakerphone. His tone is neutral - but it holds the promise of something diabolical. At least for Jaemin, the air in the room suddenly becomes tense and awkward. Jaemin wonders if anyone has fainted from awkward phone tension. Even died from it. 

Renjun fascinates Jaemin, really. Blessed with the countenance of an angel yet cursed with the iron will (and tongue) of the what could only be the devil incarnate, he’s a study in contradictions. The kind of person who stumped the corporate version of the wizarding world sorting hat i.e. the mandatory MBTI exam HR forces them all to take as part of their onboarding requirements. In all likelihood, Renjun seems like an INTJ, but Jaemin's hardly an expert on these things. He'd have to ask Taeyong if he catches him on the elevators one time.

And Jeno? As the frequent target of Renjun’s verbal barbs and lashings, his back must be figuratively scarred for life. It’s gotten so bad that even Doyoung almost stepped in during Jeno’s quarterly check-in and asked if he’d like to _escalate the very sensitive matter of Renjun’s attitude up to Johnny_. As if Johnny, Head of Legal, can really do anything to actually curb Renjun’s habit of zeroing in on Jeno’s every word and move. Not only is Johnny a newer hire than Renjun—he’s also fallen for Renjun’s charm (the guy can very much turn it the fuck on when he needs to), apparently praising him in every management meeting and doling out a waterfall of compliments on his ability to spot risks to the business before it’s even conceptualized. 

Yet Jeno says it’s all good. He takes it all in with a strangely fond smile as if he somehow _enjoys_ it. 

Jaemin makes a mental note: Tauruses are stubborn. They’re also really fucking weird. 

“Ah Renjunnie, I’m sorry. It really must’ve escaped my mind. You know how things are during annual report season.” 

_Renjunnie?_ Jaemin mouths, suddenly feeling like he’s witnessing a man in line for the guillotine. 

“You’re a manager,” Renjun deadpans. “These things are not supposed to, I quote, escape your mind. They should be at the back of your mind. Every. Single. Day.” 

“Right, of course,” Jeno says affably. “Like you are.”

“Like I’m what?”

“At the back of my mind.” Jeno grins up at Jaemin. What did he say? Guillo-fucking-tine. “Every. Single. Day.”

Oh, lord. Jaemin is seriously not ready to be axe-murdered by a rampaging corporate lawyer. He glances up at Jeno’s office’s ceiling, hoping god take pity on his subject and smite him at this every second. He honestly wouldn’t mind. 

“Lee. Jeno.” Renjun breathes through his nose and makes sure they hear it. “You’re a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.” 

“Mm, so you say. But I know you’ll never actually do it,” Jeno says cheerfully. 

“You're really testing—“ Renjun cuts off as they hear a cacophony of muffled voices over the line. “I’ll call you back. This isn’t the last of it.” 

“Looking forward,” Jeno replies before Renjun ends the call. 

“Wow,” Jaemin says half in horror, half in awe. What else can he really verbalize after that?

“Hmm?” Jeno’s unperturbed, like Jaemin’s just asked him about the weather. "You were saying about the PR, Nana?"

"We'll circle back to that." Honestly, fuck the PR because Jaemin is completely fascinated with this development, and would much rather have this be at the forefront of their conversation now. “I can’t believe you really have the audacity to flirt with the devil over the phone. He’s like, the literal worst.”

“Really?” Jeno actually frowns. Jeno's not really in the business of frowning. It looks strange on his handsome face. “I wouldn't say anything so extreme if it were up to me. I'm telling you, he’s not so bad.” 

Jaemin can hear the undercurrent of fondness in Jeno’s tone. Fucking masochist. Who’d have thought this would be hiding behind Jeno’s crescent-moon eyes. He’d been so nice, maybe even _cute and shy_ as much as grown-ass men could be called cute and shy, doing an excellent imitation of a beet whenever the pantry peanut gallery teased him after getting word through the office gossip vine of yet another hapless girl from Marketing getting a hopeless crush on him. 

Jaemin posits that Renjun is just needlessly stern. Has it out for Jeno for some reason. Maybe some misplaced jealousy? Jeno is known as an all-around sweetheart with a sterling office reputation. Renjun, meanwhile, is the dictionary definition of the adage 'small but terrible.' Granted, Jaemin personally thinks Renjun is very pretty (and he knows quite a few people who share the same opinion), but you wouldn't catch him purposely looking to make small talk with Renjun at the water fountain, much less try to piss him off with a come-on.

Come to think of it, Jaemin's never actually heard Jeno making even a mild pass at anyone else in the office. No secondhand stories either. Just like the emoji trio contact name, he reserves this side of him—this playful, flirty, no-holds barred side—solely for Renjun.

But why?

“There’s a study somewhere. Probably in Harvard Business Review or one of those Journals they make MBA students read.” Jaemin sits down across Jeno’s desk, concern marring his features. “It said C-levels have a higher chance of being sociopathic. So, my friend. Congrats. If you can put up with that with a smile on your face, you’re on your way to C-level-dom.” 

Jeno laughs. 

See? Jaemin really likes Jeno, but. Yep. Probably a variant of corporate sociopath. No doubt about it. 

.

_ii. the one where renjun proposes to discuss the trifecta_

“If litigation is Satan’s anus, then expense reports must be, I dunno, Satan’s colon. Or fucking _something_ in Satan’s evil fucking insides. Shit.” Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair, then promptly plunks his head onto the table. He mutters, muffled by mahogany, “Don’t mind me. I'm just willing my soul to magically transcend the mortal plane.” 

“Just a few more and we’ll be done,” Renjun says soothingly as he thumbs through crinkled receipts, diligently typing the numbers onto his company-issued laptop with his free hand. “We can go for dinner after if you’d like.” 

“I mean, I’m sorry but I don’t fucking get it. What’s the use of interns if we’re the ones who have to do this admin shit? Not to mention paralegals? Don’t these get in the way of actual productivity? Substantive, value-adding, profit-generating work?”

Renjun levels him with a look, the one which simultaneously makes Donghyuck want to coo at him and also wither on the inside. “You must be joking. Hyuck, our paralegals are underbars. They can’t be saddled with stuff like this. It’s next to unethical.” 

Donghyuck groans, rubbing at his temple. “I’m unfortunately aware. Sue me for venting a little.” 

Renjun chuckles amid the never-ending click-clack of his typing. How he does it with this kind of unflappable, even jovial disposition, Donghyuck honestly doesn’t know. Donghyuck can multi-task just as well as anyone, sure. Give him a memorandum to outline, a conference call to lead, and a legal report to email in the span of three hours? Ace in the goddamn hole. But typing invoice number after invoice number just grinds his gears in all the wrong ways—he’s the type who’d rather throw himself off the penthouse floor rather than subject himself to repetitive work like this. 

Meanwhile, Renjun—Donghyuck’s office room buddy of three years, time-crunch and overtime partner for the same amount of time, and erstwhile crush (they don’t speak of this dark time in history)— has accepted it as part of the job. Just one of those things they have to do in order to get by without a 'love letter' from Finance or Accounting. 

Ugh. 

Well, if there’s no getting out of it, Donghyuck can probably try to make this just a little more fun. 

“Hey, Junnie…” 

Renjun, knowing Donghyuck’s unsubtle openers, automatically narrows his gaze. “What?” 

“Who’s your office inspiration nowadays?” 

“… What the hell are you talking about?”

Donghyuck’s lower lip juts out in an exaggerated pout. “You know… the one whose face makes coming to work worth it!” He grins, waggling his eyebrows. “Or body. I don’t judge. It’s just between us friends anyway. So what do you say? Spill or?”

Renjun sighs as if greatly pained. “Hyuck. For the love of _all_ that is holy and sacred—“ 

“Junnie, I’ll never tell!” Donghyuck makes it a point to exaggerate the cross over his heart. Renjun never falls for it, but hey, just in case today’s the exception. “Besides, it’s not like we have anything else to gossip about for the next two hours.” 

“… I wish to be excluded from this narrative that’s obviously predicated on extracting mindless gossip you plan to peddle to those girls from Marketing. And Chenle.”

“Ouch!” 

“I’d like to see you deny it.”

Donghyuck switches persuasion methods on the fly. He’s not a bar passer for nothing. “Hey, this is just you and me, not between yourself and a position paper you’re gonna submit to the fucking Congress.” 

“Well, yeah. If this was between me and a position paper I’d probably have used harsher terms, not what’s basically amounting to _what the fuck are you on about now, Lee Donghyuck_.”

Donghyuck reaches over the small distance between their tables and pinches Renjun’s side through his immaculately pressed pale pink dress shirt. Renjun barely dodges it, and Hyuck relishes the spill of giggles that tumble from Renjun’s mouth. Who the hell else gets to see ol’ hardass Huang Renjun like this? 

“Blah blah, all I’m hearing are evasion tactics. Won’t hold in the court of Justice Lee Donghyuck. So tell, tell!”

Renjun shudders. "I'll seriously question the efficacy and legitimacy of our national justice system if they actually appoint you Justice." 

Donghyuck makes flapping hand-puppet motions; Renjun's leg shoots out the side and kicks him in the shin. "Less pointless yapping, more tea-spilling, if you please." 

“I don’t know if—“

“Here, I'll take a not-so-wild guess. Is it Mark Lee from External Affairs?” Donghyuck nods in understanding, more to himself. “I get it if it’s him. Guy is really fucking dreamy. And so nice, too. Like, the man’s involved in so many cross-functional projects and he still has the time to drop by for lunch every Friday? What kind of teleportation powers, am I right?” 

“No, not Mark.” Aware Donghyuck is doing this to torture him into an early death, Renjun rolls his eyes. “Since you probably won’t be ceasing with this line of questioning for the foreseeable future—“

“You know how much it disturbs me how you’re able to incorporate legalese into everyday speak? Yeah, this is one of those times—“

“—I’ll admit. There is… someone.” 

Donghyuck blinks. Then he leans forward, tilting his head in disbelief. “Wait, really?”

“Yes. Really,” Renjun confirms, dry as sandpaper. 

Now Donghyuck’s eyeballs bulge out. Actually hearing verbal confirmation from Renjun on this subject is akin to getting rocks to bleed. “Who?”

“He’s. Someone.” 

Renjun squirms in his chair. Donghyuck has only ever seen him do this twice: once when their former Head of Legal, Joonmyeon, said he’d be ready to head the function in less than five years’ time; and another when the girls from Marketing barged into their office one day and told him to lay off Lee Jeno’s case after that one time they had a verbal row-slash-stand off at the pantry.

Donghyuck gasps. 

“You’ve already boned, haven’t you.” 

Renjun chokes on air, cheeks going as pink as his shirt.

“You have! Your face says it all!” 

"At least don't call it boning. What are you, nine?" 

"I'm sorry. So silly of me." Donghyuck gasps again, this time with the added drama of cupping his palm over his mouth. "I meant to say, you've already fucked. Took a downtown trip to pound town. Did two-person push-ups. Engaged in amorous congress. The last one may be more your style of dirty euphemism."

“I—that's not...“ Renjun glares, then clears his throat. He straightens his back and sniffs. “What if I said yes?”

“Oh, Junnie. This guy must be special if he's got you all flushed.” Donghyuck grins, shark-like. Renjun is hardly the type to get flustered. This only means the world must be halfway to ending, and Donghyuck's all too happy to play spectator. “Okay, I gotta tell you. I've seen a lot of penises in my time. But I’ve _never_ seen the Sistine Chapel of dicks. The one that looks like it was carved by the glorious hands of Michelangelo himself. So tell me,” Donghyuck says seriously, leaning forward, “was this guy your Sistine Chapel?” 

For a moment, Renjun’s face looks like it’s approaching mild bewilderment comingled with absolute horror. 

But Renjun isn’t Renjun if he doesn’t quickly recover, matching Donghyuck’s attempt to trip him up every single time. 

Renjun’s already composed himself when he retorts with: “I can’t say he’s the Sistine Chapel of dicks if I can’t discuss the trifecta, right?” 

A bit doubtfully, Donghyuck says, “What do you mean?”

“The trifecta of length, girth _and_ stamina.” Renjun says flatly. He eyes Donghyuck, brow raised. “You did want to hear about his assets, right? That’s why we’re still on this topic?”

“Woah, that’s the trifecta?”

“What else could it possibly be? It's simple logic. You triangulate the so-called 'best' based on universally acknowledged parameters.” Renjun shrugs. “And you’re the one who asked for it.”

"So-called? Why the qualifier?"

"Sorry, so silly of me," Renjun echoes his earlier statement with a straight face. "He _is_ the best. No qualifiers needed."

This is an entirely new angle to Renjun’s story. In the years they’ve been together in the office, Renjun has assiduously avoided all manner of questions on his lovelife or lack thereof. No attention paid to people who may or may not have expressed lukewarm to bordering on obsessive interest in him, Donghyuck included. No interest in the teasing jabs if Renjun happened to sit close to one person for too long during meetings. As far as everyone’s concerned, on the matter of romance and dating, Renjun is a static houseplant.

Well. A houseplant that’s less a thorny succulent that’s managed to intimidate everyone away than a hungry venus flytrap poised and ready for a good dicking down. 

Needless to say, the revelation has Donghyuck’s psyche fracturing right about now. 

“Wait, at least tell me what function he’s in!” 

Renjun assumes a wry expression, appearing to ponder the ask. “Let’s just say he’s closer than you think.”

The wheels in Donghyuck’s brain begin to turn. “The only ones near our area are External Affairs and Communications—Oh. My. God. It _is_ Mark!” 

Renjun blows his fringe out from his eyes, attention already diverted back to his spreadsheet. “I already said it’s not Mark. Quit insisting it's him.” 

Donghyuck scrunches his nose in thought. “Yangyang? You hugged him that one time before clock-out.”

“I give _you_ hugs all the time. Last time I checked, we weren’t falling into bed.” 

“And what a crying shame that is.” Donghyuck sighs.

Renjun sends him an exasperated glance. “I swear…”

“Jeez, I’m kidding. Look, whoever he is, he’s… most people would say lucky, but honestly, speaking as your friend and someone who knows how you are on an 8-to-5 basis, I’m inclined to say he’s—“

“Blessed. And he knows it, trust me.”

“—Maybe a little delusional about what you actually bring to the dating table. Does he even know you can only cook five Korean dishes decently? But I really am not in the mood to be castrated right now—ow! That actually hurt, Junnie!”


	2. Chapter 2

_iii. the one where jeno has an affinity for low-hanging fruits_

Jeno’s laser pointer trains on the screen like a well-oiled homing device. He faces his audience of two, visages like flashes of afterglow in the glare of the projector, uniform blobs of fluorescent white.

“The direction for this next one was recommended by Doyoung. As you’re both aware, we sorta took a hit with their last article that came out in the Times.”

“Ah, yeah. It’s the _Empire Strikes Back_ quote Doyoung mentioned the other day,” Ten says, because only Doyoung would name a company-written hit piece after a movie where the villain prevails and chops off the lead’s hand. 

“The bad guys kinda won at the end of that movie, though,” Mark mutters. 

Ten snorts. “Mark, please tell me you aren’t _still_ harboring some sort of delusion that working for a snack food conglomerate is actually a noble thing.”

“No,” Mark sighs. He used to hold more Marxist-leaning views as a bright-eyed, fresh-faced University kid back in the day, but really, who didn't think that way back then. Everyone was some version of idealistic teen who thought he could change the world. He eventually got kicked in the face with reality; he's still paying for the mortgage on his high-rise condo to this day. He can't exactly afford to untether from the loving embrace of capitalism. “At least let me maintain some kind of veil of not-all-for-profit decency around it. Our products _feed_ people.” 

“Valid debates on our company’s morality aside.” Jeno clears his throat. “Can I?”

“Sorry.” Mark looks appropriately contrite. 

Only twenty minutes so far into the meeting and Jeno’s already breezed through almost all of Communications’ pitches for the next month’s news cycle. Technically, this could be a long and winding email thread which both Mark and Jeno will not-so-secretly groan at, but knowing Ten’s propensity to sometimes do line-by-line commentary, meetings like this are a necessity. Mark nods at Jeno to go on. 

“Continue, Jeno-yah.” Meanwhile, Ten leans his elbow forward, looking at the screen at an askew angle. 

Jeno does. “Right, so. Our final quote for the Economist story is gonna be: We find the organic rating system pushed by Choice For All unfair and patently discriminatory. Our concern is that our consumers are being misled into believing these ratings compare one is to one for like products, when they do not. Clearly, the core competency of these paid-advocacy organizations is egregious fear-mongering—“

“Is it me, or is anyone else really bothered by the phrase core competency?” Ten interrupts. He spins a Montblanc between his fingers, looking a mix of blasé and sharp.

Conversations with Ten tend to happen either of two ways: monosyllabic bursts (choice words being an enthusiastic _yes_ to a middling _fine_ or _okay_ to a curt _no_ or the ever-vicious _scrap_ ); or a series of cutting comments designed to trim all the fat and fluff from whatever the point of discussion is. 

Case in point: “This assumes there’s a peripheral competency somewhere. Someone should tell Taeyong to delete that ridiculous phrase in our job adverts.”

“I’ll make a note of that,” Mark says, jotting it down in a dog-eared notebook, a sample corporate giveaway from two years ago with a sunny THAT’S A LONG ASS RIDE (TO THE TOP) on the cover printed in tasteful serif font. 

Jaemin had it printed as a loving tribute to Mark’s drunken outburst during one of their team building sessions. He’d planned to distribute it to the Externals function for Christmas. Legal (read: Renjun) found out and almost had a fit thinking it was an actual thing they were giving away to the media and other partners. Needless to say, the incident—plus the ensuing litany of clarifications via email—curbed Jaemin’s gag giveaway scheme pretty fast. 

“He did say he wanted to try going for a start-up vibe on LinkedIn posts. Less jargon, more direct to the point. This may be his chance to try that out,” Jeno remarks.

“Great. By the way, we may have to rethink the quote. I still have a meeting with one of their on-the-fence funders next week.” 

Jeno blinks. “I thought that was a no-go? You said so in the last alignment meeting.” 

Ten’s mouth curls in a half-smile. “Managed to convince him otherwise. Everything above board, too. I checked with the Contributions arm. We could support one of his pet projects, the one about building schools in the mountains?”

Mark ponders. He’d just have to let Xiaojun in Accounting know to file it as function support expenses in the books, but otherwise they should be good to go. 

“And you know what? It actually makes more sense to just cut it out entirely.” Ten taps his fingers on the desk, a sign that he means to move on to the next item up for discussion soon. Mark checks his notes—they’ve already ticked all the boxes in today’s agenda. 

“Cut out?” Jeno prompts, magically producing a ballpoint and a small block of post-its from somewhere and beginning to scribble.

“Delete that entire last sentence. We’re not going for the jugular here. If we don’t absolutely without-a-shred-of-fucking-doubt have to then let’s err on the side of caution and avoid writing anything too provocative.”

It’s said matter-of-factly, even icily. As one of the busiest people in the management team, Ten reserves his energy for the things that truly matter. Like constant meetings with public officials who had the power to either spur the business forward or shutter it down. Or refining statements like this one which they intended to broadcast against their detractors. It’s a tricky thing to balance, these sensitive matters, but Ten was chosen to head External Affairs for his ability to make flower arrangements out of weeds, placing the most attractive blooms in front of the wilted shrubs. Perils of working in a publicly benign yet privately contentious industry and all that. 

Ten also has a spiderweb of connections everywhere, in every industry imaginable. It’s a mystery what exactly Ten offers that has them all in his iron grip. The office bets so far range from non-invasive face creams and GMO-free vegetables to high-grade indica or sativa and/or impeccably faked pieces of Banksy graffiti. The thrillingly awkward crowded-elevator banter is a real trip. 

Mark turns to Jeno and shakes his head in minute vibrations. Since Mark is usually about as subtle as a hammer to the head, Jeno doesn’t need to have a working degree in Mark’s body language to instantly get it. 

“We can cut that out and water the rest of the statement down.” Jeno immediately strikethroughs the words, efficient as ever. “I can have it on your desk in an hour after this meeting.”

“Make it forty, please.” 

“Done,” Jeno agrees smoothly.

Mark is infinitely grateful to have reliable Jeno on his side for this particular meeting instead of, say, unpredictable Jaemin or sardonic Doyoung. He likes and respects them, that much is given. But Jeno’s presence is like an anchor in the middle of a hurricane. Or a lava lamp radiating quiet calm and warm assurance, one that Mark would love nothing more than to cozy up to. 

In a professional way, of course. 

Jeno is a happy confluence of talent and aesthetics coming together to create the complete package: Tall, but not in a way that’ll make you feel like a Chihuahua looking up at a Great Dane. Muscled but not in an _I can rearrange your face_ way (if the girls from Marketing are to be believed, it’s more of an _I can lift you up during a vigorous wall sex session_ way—god, those girls were disturbing). Smiling eyes, a comforting bass, blond hair slicked back like a rockabilly god. Jeno is what the term ‘sex on a stick’ was invented for. 

Okay, wow. When Mark puts it this way, no wonder everyone used to be half-horny for Jeno. 

He still vaguely recalls Donghyuck jokingly flirting with Jeno recently, loudly complimenting his outfit for the day—an unremarkable pair of slim black slacks and a baby blue dress shirt—head tipped back in laughter and hands on Jeno’s sculpted chest, the shirt buttons only holding on by a prayer.

Only Renjun’s stare of death put a stop to these episodes. How Donghyuck hasn’t dropped off from the face of the earth is anyone’s guess. Everyone’s quite well aware of Renjun zero-tolerance policy for office unprofessionalism. Mark’s major guess is that Donghyuck is either stupidly brave or playing some sort of elaborate game on Renjun, Jeno or both at the same time… which again begs the question of why.

“Thank you, Jeno. Good work as always.” Like a switch inside him flips, Ten suddenly becomes more relaxed, lips stretching in a brilliant grin. “Before we adjourn though, any final thoughts on the idea I mentioned earlier? Mark, do you think we’d see any pushback from the other functions?”

“No, it sounds pretty reasonable. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Yes, but never to an on-the-fencer. He’s a yellow for now.” Not a green, not a red—just in between in terms of risk. Ten waves it off with a careless shrug. “I’ll take care of it.” 

“Alright. I’ll just flag Xiaojun for the filing and draft the request for approval to Johnny. And we usually course the request through Renjun…” Mark tacks on cautiously. A waterfall of Renjun’s stern email threads from days long past beam threateningly in his mind’s eye. “Jun might have something to say about it. He usually does because it’s literally his job to be on the lookout for risks but...”

“I’ll handle him,” Jeno pipes up.

Mark’s brow raises up to his hairline. “Come again, Jen?” 

He must’ve infused his words with so much emphasis and disbelief that Jeno begins to look sheepish.

“I just meant that you wouldn’t have a hard time getting it approved if ever. Renjunnie will understand. It’s, uh, all in the rationale, anyway.” 

The brazen use of an affectionate nickname doesn’t escape Mark’s notice. The way he says Renjun’s name is low and dear and not something Mark is prepared to process the implications of at the moment. If he’s being honest, it’s kind of blowing his mind. 

It also doesn’t escape Ten, who jumps on the detail like a shark smelling blood. “Oh, you two seem to be getting along well these days, hm?” he intones casually. 

A flush begins to spread on Jeno’s features. 

“Or maybe let’s just say you guys are on a… short-term cross-functional project. One with a lot of dynamic, agile, _forward movement_. From both sides.”

“We’re not working together on any external projects at the moment.“ Jeno coughs, scratching the back of his neck. “But yeah, we’re fine.” 

Unfortunately, Jeno is a goody two shoes who barely ever fibs. That single word - _fine_ \- raises Ten’s suspicions. 

“Wow, look at you going the extra mile for _harmonious collaboration_ , Jeno,” Ten appraises, flashing a beatific smile and exaggerating an appreciative nod, pulling his chin up and down. “I can still remember not that long ago when everyone looked forward to you and Renjun playing a few rounds of verbal tennis during the monthly department meetings. Renjun literally fires up at the drop of a hat, it’s both terrifying and hilarious.” 

“All in the spirit of healthy debate.” Beneath Jeno’s calm mask Mark detects a strain of defiance. It’s pretty refreshing to see. “He’s like a Swiss Army Knife. He’s got layers.”

While Mark appreciates Jeno’s attempt to spin Renjun’s less than agreeable traits into something positive, it’s just not gonna fly. 

“I don’t think ‘yelling during meetings’ qualifies as a layer, Jeno,” he points out. 

“He’s just intensely passionate about his views.”

“And now he’s passionate about something else too,” Ten counters, bulldozing on. “I have to give it to you, Jeno. Always knew you were more ambitious than you let on. You know what they say. The sweetest cherries grow from the highest branches.”

“Ten, that’s…” _Probably not unfounded_ is at the tip of Mark’s tongue. “An interesting assumption” is what he ends up saying. Where the hell is his late night insta-poem creative writing energy when he needs it, damn it. 

“Putting it another way, it’s a bit like scaling Everest, no?” Ten inquires in his mildest voice, tone belying something else entirely. “Must’ve been quite a climb to get there.”

Mark politely intervenes, sensing Jeno might need an assist. 

“If there’s anything of the sort going on with them, you know there’s a lot of CCTVs… and the gossip hounds around here are pretty up-to-date. You know we would’ve heard of it by now.” 

“Actually, you were pretty much on the nose. The cherry on the highest branch thing,” Jeno admits, words sounding oddly sincere and meaningful. Wait, what? “But right now… I’d say the more apt phrase would be a low-hanging fruit.”

Mark’s jaw hangs, torn between feeling awestruck at all the various fruit metaphors that are just flying out of everyone’s mouths today and feeling scandalized at Jeno’s sheer bravery. And he thought Donghyuck held that dubious honor. 

He mentally de-badges Donghyuck and hangs the Mark Award for ‘most courageous motherfucker’ above Jeno’s head. 

Ten smirks, looking way too gleeful. “Would Renjun appreciate being called a low-hanging fruit, though?”

Jeno mic-drops with, “Well, if the low-hanging fruit in question is something I can eat everyday—in all the ways—then sure. I don’t think he’ll mind.” 

Mark appends a ‘best in indirect confessions’ award somewhere there too. 

.

It takes Mark around ten minutes, but eventually he’s able to negotiate his and Jeno’s release out of the conference room. 

“So. You and Renjun, huh,” Mark says lightly as they walk along the hallway down to their shared area. 

“I guess so.” Of all the warmth in Jeno's tone, _tenderness_ is the one that creates the sweet top note. 

Mark would be the first to say he's not one for talk like this, but he likes to think he and Jeno are friends, if not bros. And bros trusted bros with the deets. Bros disclosed the hows and whys of the center axis their world apparently spun around. 

“Damn, you must’ve had like, legit stud moves to get Jun of all people to date you.” He wraps his arms around Jeno’s shoulders, shifting gears into full-on wheedling mode. If only Donghyuck could see him now, he’d probably be very proud. “How did that happen, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jeno’s grin grows incrementally, like he’s been waiting his whole damn life to tell someone this story. 

“Let me just get my laptop. I can do Ten’s quote at the cafe down on 5th. My treat.”

“I do miss that cafe’s two-shot espresso,” Mark declares, whipping his phone out faster than a cowboy at a stand-off and setting his Microsoft Teams status to _do not disturb_. “Lead the way, good sir.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy aries szn, babes! and it's because it's renjun's season, here's some renjun pov written in the span of 3 hours. yes, that's officially my magic number for any updates, if at all, with this fic 😅 💕 thank you for all your kudos and comments, i promise i'll reply to you all in a bit! enjoy!

_interlude: the one where renjun is just happy to get donghyuck out the door (and get jeno in)_

For all of Renjun’s bravado, he’s never been totally immune to Donghyuck’s dogged persistence. 

Honestly, Donghyuck ending up in corporate is a blow to plaintiffs everywhere. If his cross-examination and interrogation skills were used in court, the conviction rate would likely skyrocket. He is just that good at sniffing out clues and drawing out confessions. 

Yes, he’s Renjun’s closest friend and colleague in this god-forsaken company. Yes, he drives Renjun up the wall sometimes. Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. 

“Okay. So far I’ve crossed out Doyoung and Mark.” Donghyuck ticks off two fingers. “Who else did we have on the list?”

“It’s _your_ list. I’m just an unwilling participant.”

There’s some emphatic hand movements that result in Donghyuck’s pen almost flying off his desk and stabbing Renjun in the eye, but the message gets across. 

“Details, details.” 

Ah, tenacity. A great quality to have in an employee, but not so great to have in someone possibly possessed by the demonic spirit of a grand inquisitor from the Spanish fucking Inquisition. 

It’s now a Friday, three whole days since Renjun intentionally let it slip that he was, for lack of a better term, heavily involved with someone in their immediate vicinity. Three whole days since Donghyuck has made it his god-given crusade to wear Renjun down and find out who exactly has penetrated Renjun’s inner - and outer - walls. Pun very much intended.

“Of course it’s not Doyoung, I don’t have a death wish.” Renjun shivers involuntarily. In many ways, he finds Doyoung’s whole vibe eerily similar to his own, and Renjun is not a narcissist. “And not Mark. How many times do I have to say it?”

“Fine, it’s not Mark,” Donghyuck crows. “But those email threads where the entire function were cc-ed kind of tell me otherwise.” 

He hates to admit it, but what comes out his mouth sounds less dignified protest and more shrill squawk. “All I did was tell him, ‘Mark, please elaborate this request further, this leaves me high and dry and would get us both questioned.’ How the hell is that indicative of any kind of attraction?” 

“Oh, Junnie.” Donghyuck clicks his tongue in exasperation. The guy just had oodles of sheer nerve to turn the tables on Renjun. Seriously, it’s supposed to be Renjun who’s the exasperated one here. “I could make you a listicle of all the everyday things you say that sound unintentionally dirty. I mean, really?” He motions exaggerated air quotes with both hands. “Walk softly but carry a big stick?” 

Renjun splutters. “It was one time in a meeting and I was referencing diplomatic policy! It’s from freakin’ Roosevelt!”

“Well, Roosevelt should’ve known it sounded like a dick joke.” 

“How would he—you’re unbelievable,” Renjun groans, breath gusting up so hard it rustles a few strands of hair. God, he really needs to cut his hair soon. 

Should he, though? Jeno would probably pout and act all sad over the loss. He loved running his hands through Renjun’s hair when they cuddled on the couch during their weekend movie nights. Renjun’s head would be on Jeno’s lap then, savoring the warmth of Jeno’s strong thighs under his cheek. 

Sometimes Jeno would startle at a cheap jump scare. Renjun never would’ve guessed it when they first started dating, but Jeno isn’t partial to horror movies. At all. Decent height, could probably beat up someone if he put his mind to it, devastatingly good-looking. How could this guy not be a horror fan? But then Jeno’s trembling hand would rest against his nape; Renjun glances up to see Jeno looking like he wanted to bury himself under the couch. 

Renjun teases him of course. Relentlessly. But it’s an odyssey with a single end point: to get Jeno to shut him up. And it works every single time. It’s not that Jeno can’t give as good as he gets in terms of wit and cleverness. He wouldn’t be good at his job otherwise. 

But when it comes to Renjun, Jeno prefers his actions to speak for itself. Res ipsa loquitur, as it were. Latin in origin, and often used to infer negligence. 

But in their little bubble, their little haven in the heart of the city with Jeno’s cats and Renjun’s little herb garden, the reverse couldn’t be more true. For one, Jeno is attentive to a fault. There’s never a day when Renjun doesn’t feel like he’s the most gorgeous, most charming man in the world thanks to Jeno, even though in reality he’s probably closer to the prickliest motherfucker there ever was. Like he’s living in an epic love story, prophesized in the stars he so loved as a child and still adores to this day. 

He’d begin to press soft, gossamer kisses to Renjun’s jaw, his cheekbones, his eyes. He’d draw this out, getting closer and closer but never enough, until Renjun’s embarrassingly needy and whining, pressing desperate fingers into the hard planes of Jeno’s stomach. Only then would Jeno end his suffering and touch their lips together. Renjun’s reaction is predictable at this point: he’d easily give under the force of Jeno’s all-consuming love, whimpering softly as he kisses Jeno back, fingers curling in Jeno’s ratty t-shirt. Jeno would growl low in his throat and roll half on top of him, push him down with his weight as desire cruises through Renjun in a languid, unhurried wave—

“And we’ve crossed Yukhei out too. I’m just saying, that man is in Sales for a reason because I’d buy the shit out of whatever the fuck he’s selling. My holes, they could all be his. Under his spell, blessed be the thirst.” 

Renjun grimaces as Donghyuck’s voice careens into his thoughts and drags him back to the present. Shit, he’s daydreaming again. Usually he doesn’t get this carried away, which means he must be tired as all hell. Thank god it’s already Friday. 

“And Jaemin.” Donghyuck’s eyes crinkle, excitement creeping in. Oh, boy. Whenever Jaemin’s brought up any time in their after-work conversations, Donghyuck never misses the chance to extoll the guy’s virtues. Frankly speaking, Donghyuck sounds like a man well and truly dickmatized. “This one I really have to ask why the hell not because that guy is fucking sexy, like, he’s the very definition of the word he always says for some weird reason, and that’s actually rare, y’know?”

Renjun wrinkles his nose. By virtue of his connection to Jeno, Jaemin is a friend by extension, though he’s not sure if Jaemin thinks the same of him. Jeno assures him Jaemin is just a bit skittish, but it doesn’t really align with what everyone else says about Jaemin—confident, self-assured, introvert and extrovert in equal parts. Maybe Jaemin already knows about them and is just being polite about it? 

“He’s… objectively okay, I guess. I wouldn’t really know.” 

“The fuck?” Donghyuck is some combination of outraged and disbelieving. “Do you need me to fund your LASIK appointment, Junnie?”

Renjun’s eyeballs roll so hard they’re almost ready to detach from the sockets. He contemplates sacrificing a farm animal in a blood ritual in a bid to bury the never-ending speculation.

“Have you seen his shoulders? Those are like the shoulders of the goddamn Atlas Shrugged paperback cover—“

Crossing his arms, Renjun seizes the opportunity for deflection. 

“Are you sure you’re not the one with an office love affair here?” 

“Fuck no.” Donghyuck purses his lips in evident distaste. “Sex affair, I’m down. But love affair? I’ve had enough fuckboy bullshit to know most guys aren’t worth bothering with. And to be honest, good vibes are easier to come by.” 

Renjun nods in understanding. He used to think the same way not too long ago. Obviously with Jeno’s arrival he’s come to eat his words. And not just eat, but shove them right down his throat. 

This is aside from the other things he’s shoved down his throat on a regular basis since then. 

But like any lawyer worth his salt, Renjun sees the opening for another diversion and grabs it. 

“You’re back on the vibe? I thought you said you were all about OnlyFans now?” 

Donghyuck takes the bait. Small mercies. 

“Babe, I was _always_ on the vibe,” he clarifies. “It’s not like I suddenly up and decided to float my vibe out to sea and shoot a flaming arrow at it whenever I found a flesh-and-blood dick to fuck.”

Renjun sighs. Leave it to Donghyuck to gift him with mental images of burning vibrators on Nordic boats. 

“The new thing I am on now though is Grindr,” Donghyuck continues, tone growing more and more enthusiastic. “Technically, it’s not like _new_ new since it’s been around since forever and I just reinstalled it. But I realized I didn’t have to pay thousands of won a month to see dicks! Wild, right?”

“What a concept,” Renjun replies flatly. 

“All I had to do was put my number on Grindr and I have a lifetime supply of dicks to gaze upon,” Donghyuck pauses for dramatic effect, “ _for free_!” 

The conversation quickly spiraling in this direction could really only have been the work of a consummate degenerate like Donghyuck. And Renjun is a degenerate by association for pouring gasoline on it and fanning the flames of depravity. 

On the other hand, Renjun and Donghyuck already talk about the latter’s exploits anyway. More than once, perhaps even stretching into the category of “a lot.” It could almost be called a morally bankrupt version of a 5 o’clock habit. 

Might as well run with it. Again, it’s a Friday and Renjun’s brain deserves a break. No thinking about Johnny’s growing pile of memo drafts for submission, unanswered pulse surveys about company satisfaction from Taeyong, and Mark’s interminable follow-up emails about whatever project of the week External Affairs had going on. 

Renjun mimes deep thinking. He settles on, “Congrats on the free dicks? Can’t beat the cost-to-benefit ratio on Grindr.” 

“Right?” Donghyuck agrees. “Think about it. Is some D-list reality star’s dick on OnlyFans truly so different from all the other cost-effective dick options out there?” 

“Probably not,” says someone who is definitely not Renjun, voice floating from somewhere near Renjun and Donghyuck’s office’s glass door. “You’re better off looking for the next great dick on the unregulated free market, Hyuck.” 

“I’m not going on fucking Craigslist,” Donghyuck answers automatically as Jeno closes the door behind him. “And hello to you too, Jeno.” 

Another thing to be thankful for aside from the cushy salary, car plan, and stock options: private offices. Johnny might have a heart attack if he ever heard Donghyuck going on tirades about the best value-for-money sex toys on a weekly basis. 

“Jeno?” Renjun blinks, back tensing slightly. “What are you doing here?” It comes out sounding slightly accusatory. 

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate Jeno walking into his office willy nilly. Dressed in a short-sleeved polo with an open collar, the dark emerald color beautifully contrasting against Jeno’s skin tone, Renjun finds himself several notches above mere pedestrian appreciation. But he hasn’t exactly told Donghyuck yet, although Donghyuck’s guesses inch closer by the day. 

“Come to follow-up in Doyoung’s stead?” Donghyuck looks over Jeno thoughtfully. 

Renjun glowers as Donghyuck clearly shares his appreciation, blatantly checking Jeno out. Can’t Donghyuck stick to Jaemin and call it a day? But Donghyuck being Donghyuck would say he “keeps a diverse portfolio”… which is maybe the most diplomatic phrasing Renjun’s ever heard for “having multiple crushes and letting everyone within a two-feet radius know about it.” 

“But I’m not sure why you would. Is Project Spring at Phase 2 already?” 

“Nope. Still at Phase 1.” Jeno shakes his head, stepping forward, a sunny expression on his face despite the late hour. “Actually came over to deliver a quick message. Jisung was looking for you, Hyuck. He said something about carpool Friday? By now he’s already down at the basement with Chenle and Sicheng.” 

“Car—oh, fuck.” Donghyuck smacks his forehead. He slams the lid of his laptop shut and stuffs it in his messenger bag in lightning speed. “I totally forgot! Jisungie’s gonna murder me, isn’t he? This is your fault, Junnie.”

“How am I responsible for this?” Renjun shoots back incredulously as his culpability is called into question. “You go off on these tangents entirely on your own and I’m literally just sucked into it.” 

“You sucking _something_ is definitely part of it,” Donghyuck says, and Jeno snort-laughs. Renjun throws Jeno a quick wretched glare which Jeno proceeds to ignore. Donghyuck slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. “But Jeno, don’t get us wrong. It was mostly about dicks and vibes in general and less about someone sticking his love rod into Renjun’s—“

“Good _bye_ , Hyuck! See you Monday!” Renjun all but shrieks with as much dignity as he can manage, which is not a lot.

“Sounds riveting,” Jeno supplies unhelpfully. 

Even standing near the doorway, Renjun can see the amusement that’s overtaken Jeno’s face. He refuses to feel ways about that. 

“It seriously was. Ah, Renjunnie is the most fun to tease.” 

“I’m still here,” Renjun huffs.

“He really is,” Jeno agrees. Renjun will definitely have _words_ with this guy later. 

As is customary for them, Donghyuck bends down at the waist wraps Renjun in a quick hug, practically smushing Renjun’s face into his shirt. On the way out, he passes by Jeno and bumps him on the shoulder. 

“You wanna come with down to the basement if you’re already leaving?”

“You go on ahead,” Jeno says, still smiling. “I still have a bit to discuss with Renjunnie.” 

Donghyuck’s gaze darts between the two of them as if witnessing the world’s most interesting volleyball match. 

“Oh-kay,” he enunciates slowly. “See you guys, happy weekend!”

Renjun can feel him percolating in a million and one unsaid questions. It’s official: Renjun is not going to know peace next Monday. Maybe he can book a whole-day meeting with Johnny then; he’s been meaning to, anyway.

“You too, Hyuck.” 

As soon as Donghyuck’s closed the door and way out of earshot, Jeno opens with: “Love rod? Hyuck’s getting awfully creative.” 

Grumpily, Renjun responds, “Don’t look at me. I don’t know where gets it either and it sure as hell isn’t from his NYT subscription.” 

“He might get it from Mark.” Despite having zero projects together, Donghyuck is ostensibly fond of Mark and vice-versa. Renjun suspects it’s because Mark is secretly into being verbally steamrolled into oblivion. “He’s very into poetry writing these days.” 

“Pablo Neruda must be rolling in his grave.”

Jeno grins, crossing the short distance to perch on the very edge of his table. The air is a hot rush from Renjun’s lungs, and he’s extremely thankful that his desk is a CCTV blind spot. They’ve checked. Multiple times. 

Still doesn’t hurt to be cautious. “Careful,” Renjun intones softly even as he rolls his chair to the side to give Jeno more room to maneuver himself around. “You might get picked up by the cams.” 

Nonplussed, Jeno scoots closer, gently pushing Renjun’s laptop and notebooks to the side. 

A person might think, after dating Jeno for around a year and being married for a quarter of that time, that Renjun would take Jeno’s intrusion with the same ease as any other old, familiar thing. But he still feels the same live-wire of want coursing beneath his skin. His entire body is primed, trembling, switched on. Because.

Because Jeno fucking Lee.

He’s got this energy around Renjun that’s… overtly sexual. All lean legs and broad shoulders, quiet confidence and mischievous eyes. Even when he’s overtaken by occasional shyness, shoulders hunched and hands littered in ink marks, it’s there. No wonder Renjun practically threw himself at Jeno’s feet back then. 

There, in that month-long leadership seminar they attended together more than a year ago in Antwerp of all places. Just the two of them. 

Where he remembers watching Jeno give a presentation to thunderous applause, and he claps along, giving Jeno a thumbs-up as he walks off the platform. 

Where Jeno passes him a torn piece of ruled paper with a hastily scribbled _Wanna ditch?_ followed by the address of a mom-and-pop hotpot restaurant somewhere in the backalleys of the city. 

Where he remembers thinking, through the haze of steam floating around Jeno’s face, that he’s never really disliked Jeno. Far from it. 

Where they both asked for a week’s extension to do a whole bunch of stereotypically touristy things—taking the train and gorging themselves to bursting capacity in Amsterdam, Barcelona, Berlin and Paris before ending up in Plage de Palombaggia in Corsica. 

Where he’d seen Jeno standing shirtless on one of the enormous red granite rocks lining up the shore. Renjun had blushed and dug his feet into soft, fine sand when Jeno caught his eye and smiled that smile that seemed just for him. 

Only him.

Renjun inhales the warm, clean, overpowering scent of Jeno as he pulls him into his arms, hands splayed over Renjun’s upper back.

“Tired?” Jeno murmurs soothingly, rubbing small circles where he knows Renjun’s knots are likely to be from sitting all day. 

“Mm. The report did a number on me,” Renjun murmurs against Jeno’s nape.

“We can just get some chicken and beer from Yogiyo and call it a day,” Jeno suggests, dropping a kiss on Renjun’s crown.

He knows he planned to give Jeno a piece of his mind somewhere, sometime today. The plan dissolves as soon as Jeno gets his hands on him. God, why did the universe bless Jeno with magical hands and curse Renjun with the weakest resolve known to man? 

“Not to mention Donghyuck. That guy never gives up when he’s got his mind set on something.” 

“You can tell him already if you’re comfortable.” 

“I am,” Renjun assures. “I do trust him. But.” He bites his lip to hold back the smile blooming on his face. “It’s just so fun to hold out for as long as possible. I know it’s driving him half-insane.” 

Jeno draws back minutely, flicking a chastising gaze down at Renjun. All in all, he appears supremely unsurprised by Renjun’s declaration. “I’ll never understand you two.”

“You don’t need to.” Renjun makes a tiny mewl of displeasure at Jeno’s warmth pulling away. Jeno will say later that it’s really, really disgustingly cute, but Renjun just couldn’t care less now. “Just hold me for a minute, please.” 

“As you command, love.” 

Jeno, the absolute cheeseball he is, takes Renjun’s hand and presses lips to his palm. 

Renjun’s pulse takes up a conga beat, kick-drum style. He swallows. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you colluding with Donghyuck earlier.” 

“Of course.” Jeno’s eyes darken several shades, pupils growing wider by far as he smirks against Renjun’s skin. “What’ll it be today, the cuffs or the rings?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this particular chapter, believe it or not, was inspired by hikki's [one last kiss](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Uhh62MUEic) which is whimsical, a little melancholic, and also evokes all the otp feels. sigh 💛

**Author's Note:**

> i.e. the product of 3 hours of speedwriting :)) i figured it already reached 3k so... why not post. anyway, i can probably continue at some point, if and/or once inspiration strikes for more corporate world!noren. thanks for stopping by! 
> 
> find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/generalchenle) or on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/generalchenle) if you'd like to yell @ me lol


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